One Poem by Jon Ruseski

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In the rush

I am

Lifting my pail

At the sun


It wasn’t so bad

The obvious 



& having a life


There is

A genealogy of suffering


This morning

I read

Minimalism is the aesthetic code of gentrification 

Really I want to say

Make less art

This video artist I met


It’s ok I once dumped an abstract painting

Joy had nothing to do with it

Not that I should be allowed 

To say much

I’ve been exploring my cusp lately

Even though

The stars are laughable 

This month

I am looking for something final

& drinking mostly

Mineral water

Call me


I don’t mind

In Goethe’s theory

Colors are made 

From light and shadow

Blue emerging from the darkness


The dulling

Of the light


A kind of 

Harmonious union

I got vertigo

At the Guggenheim

Writing that


Looking at the paintings

For the future


A palpable intuition

The railing


My center 

Of gravity

I’m convinced

Someone has died there


I guess

There are a lot of things like that

In Poland

They just call Paul Stanley


Instead of Starchild


In the Fyre Fest documentary

Ja Rule’s epiphany

Edited over


Now historic 



Ten partying supermodels

Who didn’t know why they were there

A vision

Of what people want


Who can really say

The surface is deeper than anything

The Sopranos

Season 4

Ends with

Dean Martin

Blasted off the Stugotz

Into the face

Of the annoying lawyer

Season 5

Goes someplace else

Chris and Paulie

So vulnerable

A terribly-rendered CGI bear

Eats the expired corn

Where the money used to be

Like most of it

I’ve forgotten my place

These signifiers 

Out there


As if that’s what song is

To be so kingly lost

The words don’t matter

That blank

Of being dumb

Before the name


Sun Basket


Hilma af Klint

Jon Ruseski is the author of the chapbooks Sporting Life and Neon Clouds. He co-edits b l u s h, an online poetry journal and publishing imprint.

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